Flames Consume the One Who Slumbers
by Lady in the Willows
Summary: Oneshot We enter into the story as a young woman makes a confession that is very… interesting. Now, we must ask the question: Can dreams be sinful? Hers can.


Flames Consume the One Who Slumbers 

Rating: R (Ooh! My first 'R' rating! How exciting!)

Author: Willow Rose

Theme: Romance/Horror

Summary: (One-shot) We enter into the story as a young woman makes a confession that is very… interesting. Now, we must ask the question: Can dreams be sinful? Hers can.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own POTO. No, I don't make any money off of this. No, I do not wear clothes when I sleep. Wait a second… (jolts from weary trance) That was obviously unnecessary information and I'd appreciate it if you'd delete it from your memory.

Chapter One 

Confessing to Dreams

(Author's Note: Hmm, let's see. My stories so far have made you laugh, made you think, and made you cry. At least, that's what the reviews have said. Let's see if I have any talent in writing something a little… edgier.)

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been one day since my last confession." Fr. Thomas sighed as he heard the soft voice say the customary line. He knew who it was, of course. Stella Morgan had been coming each day to confess for a year. The girl was only nineteen and had never been particularly religious. For some reason, the lass kept coming to confess for what she called, "sinful thoughts". She never explained about them and never said what they were about. Frankly, he was getting tired of hearing the same thing every day.

"Stella, for a year now you have come here and confessed to the same thing repeatedly. You cannot have forgiveness if you do not intend to resist temptation," he said patiently.

"I have tried to, Fr. Thomas. It is just not that simple," she replied quietly. He rubbed his moss green eyes.

"Thoughts are sometimes uncontrollable but if you think about the same thing all the time then…"

"I don't think about it Father," she said, "I dream about it." He ran his hand through his rusty red hair in confusion.

"You think that dreams are sinful, Stella?"

"I think that these dreams are, Father." He shook his head and laughed.

"Stella, dreams are simply products of imagination that cannot be controlled. God does not punish us for such unimportant things."

"God has sent saints messages in dreams, has he not?" she asked calmly.

"Yes, he has," he agreed. "But those were more like visions."

"Do you think," she asked tensely, "that the devil could send us messages in our dreams as well?" Fr. Thomas frowned thoughtfully and considered the question.

"I suppose that it's a reasonable assumption that he could but it doesn't seem very probable. Why do you ask?" He heard Stella take a deep breath and say,

"I have dreamed of Red Death, Father. I have dreamed of a man in a skeleton mask. Every time I see him my heart races, my blood sings, and I feel damp between my legs. He can touch me from across a room and make my clothes vanish with a thought. He has taken me so many times in my dreams that I have lost count. And every time I wake I feel his lips upon my own." Father Thomas gulped; his eyes were wide with shock.

"Stella, these dreams are very intimate. But they are still just dreams. Perhaps you should see someone who can explain the meaning of them. All I can do is assure you that it is not a sin to dream such things. You cannot control it."

"I can control my desires, Father. I have yearned for him and for his touch. In my daydreams I have heard his voice. When I have walked alone in the forest, he has made love to me with the wind. What can I do, Father? You have known me since childhood. I have never wanted someone as I have wanted this man. It is not in my nature to feel such things but I feel them for him. What can I do?" Her voice broke and she sobbed. "God forgive me," she lamented. "Oh, God, please forgive me."

"Stella, it's all right," he soothed. "You're going to be fine. There is nothing wrong with you. You're nineteen years old, practically a woman, and you are entitled to a few fantasies. Your dreams are nothing more than just that. Dreams. You have nothing to feel guilty about."

Stella's topaz eyes stared at the rosary she held in her hands and her curly copper hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She was small and well shaped. The modest black dress that she wore downplayed her curves but they were visible, nonetheless. Her smooth, alabaster skin was streaked with tears and her rose lips were puffy.

"You cannot imagine how it feels to be so powerless," she whispered hopelessly. "When I am in his arms, I no longer belong to myself. I am his, body and soul. He has made that plain as day." Father Thomas sighed.

"Would it make you feel better if you could explain your dreams to me? While the subject is awkward, it might help lift some of the burden this has placed upon you." Stella nodded.

"I would like to do that, Father, but are you sure you wish to hear?" He smiled.

"It's my job, Stella. You can tell me anything you like." She agreed and then began to explain her dream.

Every dream always starts innocently enough. I am just sitting in my room, reading or working on something, when the temperature drops. I shiver and pull a cloak around my shoulders. It's then that I realize that I have never seen that cloak before. It simply appeared when I needed it. It worries me and I push the cloak off my shoulders. When I do, I find that my clothes have changed. I am no longer wearing the comfortable clothing that I was but now I am wearing something entirely different. It is a long, gold skirt that has a long slit up one side and exposes my right leg up to my thigh. There is a red corset that pushes up my breasts but does not cover them. I am wearing a white, cotton shirt underneath it that does that but it is loose around my shoulders and is often revealing.

I gasp and stand up. Always, I gasp and stand up. That is when a wind stirs in the room. It whirls about me, caressing my face, my chest, my arms, and my legs. It swirls up my skirt and strokes my thighs and I swear that I can feel hands where there are none. My eyes close and I moan with pleasure. Then I hear someone laugh softly. I open my eyes and find that I am no longer in my room. Now, I am in a dark cavern, filled with candles and mist.

When I try to move forward, someone gently grips my shoulders. I look at the hands and study them. The fingers are long and elegant. They are piano hands. Without hesitation, I lean against him and accept his touch. He presses a kiss to my neck and runs his hands up and down my arms. Music fills the cavern and his low, seductive voice begins to encompass me with its beguiling spell.

_You have come here in pursuit of you deepest urge…_

He presses me closer to him and nibbles my ear then soothes the slight pressure with his tongue. I moan and reach up to touch his masked face. He holds my hand to his cheek and then kisses my palm.

_In pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent…_

He turns me towards him and I take in his appearance. He is taller than I am, by far. He wears all red clothing with black lining and a skeleton mask covers his face, his hair is dark. His build is long and lean. He has a strange grace and smoothness to his movements that in itself are enchanting. His lips are full and tempting. But his eyes, oh, his eyes are a blazing, powerful, controlling blue.

_Silent…_

He frames my face with his hands and takes possession of my mouth. His tongue runs over every space and strokes my own tongue like velvet. Gently, he takes in my taste and drinks in my mouth like a fine wine. My arms wound around his neck and I taste his dark flavor, the dangerous and enigmatic essence that was he.

_I have brought you that our passions may fuse and merge…_

He runs a hand through my hair and draws back. He looks me up and down and then snaps his fingers. Instantaneously, my clothes have disappeared and I stand naked before him. He pulls me to him and trails fiery kisses down my throat to my breasts. His hands knead my buttocks even as his mouth suckles at my breast. I cry out in pleasure and press his head closer to me, desperate for more.

_In your mind you've already succumbed to me…_

He sweeps me off my feet and carries me to a swan-shaped bed. He lays me down and then stares at me. Though he doesn't touch me, I feel his hands stroking my shoulders, cupping my breasts, caressing my abdomen. He grips my hips without actually doing that and draws slow circles on my skin with his fingers. I moan aloud and reach for him.

_Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me…_

His clothing vanishes and my breath catches. My lover's body is that of a Greek god. Every muscle is firm and sculpted. His chest is strong and broad; his arms are solid and muscular. A black mask covers his face now but I care not. I wish only for his flesh against my flesh and his lips against my lips.

_And now you are here with me…_

He joins me on the bed and proceeds to kiss me as I had wished. He kisses the edge of my jaw and down my throat. His fingers wander over me at will. Suddenly, I feel them inside my most intimate part and I groan. That feeling is so exquisite that I cannot think.

_No second thoughts, you've decided… _

He rubs his fingers against me at a gentle rhythm and my blood roars in my ears. All I want is for him to take me. I want him to take me so badly that it hurts.

_Decided… _

He glides down my body and soon his tongue replaces his fingers. He parts me, explores me and desire plucks at my nerves and practically drives me mad. I am throbbing for him now and I yearn for him to fill me.

_What raging fire shall flood the soul…? _

Then he returns to my mouth and traces my lips with his tongue. I press him closer and run my hands over his back. Control has completely left me and I arch my hips to meet him. His arms wrap around me and he slowly enters me.

_What rich desire unlocks its door…? _

His pace is slow and he gently thrusts into me. It is maddening and I urge him closer, trying desperately to quicken him. Finally, I see the desire glowing in his eyes and he quickens, filling me completely. He kisses my throat and shoulders, driving me to greater heights.

_What sweet seduction lies before us…? _

At long last, I am pushed over the edge of my desire. Such sensation fills me that I have never felt. It is more than a climax. It is like I have been thrown off a great cliff into such unbelievable ecstasy that I can barely stand it. He spills into me and I let out a strangled scream of pleasure.

_What warm unspoken secrets shall we learn…? _

I kiss him, pulling him close to me, and he groans into my mouth. I know that he has been as lost in need as I have been. He meets my gaze and I feel his unspoken vow. He will come for me again.

_Beyond the point of no return…. _

Fr. Thomas swallowed hard once Stella had finished speaking. That dream was incredibly graphic and it disturbed him that such an innocent girl would be tormented by fantasies of that sort. It didn't seem fair to the poor girl. "Is that how it always is for you?" he asked.

"Most of the time, it is just that way. Sometimes things will be different. The way he touches me or the place that we make love can change occasionally. But in every dream he takes me and I wake up with my body humming for his." She let out a trembling breath. "It frightens me."

"Does anyone else know of this dream?" he questioned her. She shook her head and laughed dryly.

"No, Father, I do not think that people would be nearly as understanding as you have been. I'd rather not attract such attention." He sighed.

"Stella, there's not much I can do for you. I think that you should see a therapist of some sort that can help you through this. But don't worry, God does not punish us for dreams."

"Father, there is something else…" she began hesitantly. "I just don't want you to think I'm crazy."

"I would never think that," Fr. Thomas assured her. "I've known you for a very long time, Stella. You aren't crazy." Stella sobbed.

"For the last month, I've been seeing him. Not just in my dreams but all around me. I have told you that I've heard his voice in daydreams but I also hear it when I'm not daydreaming. He calls to me when I'm alone or even when I'm surrounded by people. He's inside my mind and I can't make him leave." Fr. Thomas's eyes narrowed with worry.

"Where have you seen him, Stella?"

"Everywhere," she murmured. "I'll turn my head and catch a brief glimpse of him. I'll glance in a mirror and see him standing behind me. I fear the wind now, Father, because I feel his touch in it."

"Stella, I think that saying the rosary before you go to bed would be a good idea," he said slowly. "Try not to think of this masked man. If you see him during the day, pay him no heed. He only has power if you give it to him." Stella sighed with relief.

"Thank you, Father. This has meant so much to me." He smiled softly.

"Think nothing of it. I just hope I won't see you tomorrow." She laughed lightly and stood up.

"Good day, Fr. Thomas, and God bless you." She walked away and headed toward the open door of the church. A choked cry caught her attention and she turned back towards the confessional. "Father?" she called out. There was no answer and she felt a slight twinge of worry. Hesitantly, she walked back and pulled aside the curtain that concealed Fr. Thomas. Stella looked inside and screamed. Fr. Thomas's lifeless green eyes stared back at her, filled with fear and horror. A rope was around his horribly broken neck. "Oh my God," she whispered in terror. An arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against a solid chest. Stella shrieked and tried to pull away but he was far stronger.

"What is wrong, my dear?" her dream lover's beautiful voice asked. "Does it surprise you that such a thing would happen?" She struggled against him.

"Let me go! Oh, God, let me go!" she screamed. He laughed and the sound was cold and deadly.

"Do not be so foolish, Stella. You know that I will never let you go." She sobbed and gave up her attempts to break free.

"Why?" she asked weakly. "Why would you kill him? I knew him since I was three. He wouldn't harm a fly. Oh, God, why would you do that?" He idly curled a strand of her hair around his gloved hand and answered casually,

"You told him of my existence. That is something that I cannot allow anyone to know." He kissed her neck gently and she shuddered.

"Then, it's all true," she whispered. "The dreams that I've had, the things that I've seen and heard, they're all true." He smiled against her hair.

"You're a clever girl, Stella. Part of the reason I find you so appealing."

"I hate you," she whispered fervently. He chuckled deeply.

"Why would you say things that you know aren't true?" he asked mildly. "Why would you say you hate me when I, how did you say it? Oh, yes, I remember. I cause your heart to race, your blood to sing, and you feel damp between your legs." He nibbled lightly on her ear and whispered, "You wake from your dreams with your body 'humming' for mine." Stella's eyes closed and she leaned against him. How could something so horribly wrong feel so incredibly right?

His hands stroked her thighs and he continued to kiss her neck. "I wonder, Stella, if you've ever wanted to have intimate relations in a church," he said coolly, as if they were discussing the weather. She gulped and shook her head.

"That's disgusting," she spat. He laughed and the top buttons of her dress came loose. One by one, they unbuttoned by themselves and she stared in fascinated horror. "You wouldn't," she whispered nervously. "You couldn't do such a thing." He pushed the dress off her shoulders and kissed the back of her neck.

"I think you'll find, my dear, that I am capable of a great many things."

(Author's Note: Well, there it is. My first love scene ever. Did you all enjoy it? Please review! I do need the advice and support.)


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